


Flaunt

by purgtory (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, actor!dean - Freeform, pornstar!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7838779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/purgtory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester had a horrible day, but it suddenly was looking up when a cute guy in a trenchcoat stumbled into the bar and sat down next to him. A little fic based on my idea for actor!dean and pornstar!cas. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flaunt

Dean floored the accelerator to his beloved car, speeding down the highway and away from the horrible day he’d had. He leaned his arm out the open window as he cranked up the radio. Wind flying past his face, ageing engine working away beneath his feet. That was one of the places Dean felt he belonged. Sure, the old car was eccentric for someone of his occupation and income bracket, but he wouldn’t give it up for anything less than the love of his life. And he was yet to run into them, so the car was safe.

The little bar just a few miles down the road from the set wasn’t anything special, based on the couple times Dean had been during shooting. Generic, run-down joint serving fairly standard brands of most kinds of drink. Pool table, wooden stools, scratched tables kinda deal. It wasn’t the kind of bar where people fall in love, or make huge, life-changing mistakes. The most interesting thing to have happened in Oronoco Tap was probably some guy throwing up twice in one night.

Still, all bars served booze, and Dean needed some booze. That night was definitely a ‘drink to get drunk’ night. It was just one of those days. Dean wound up the windows as pulled into the tiny carpark, and switched off the ignition. He paused for the smallest of moments, taking a deep breath before he opened the door with a creak. He stepped out into the chilly evening air. The night was a nice one, clear and crisp. The sort of night that reminded him of the last day of summer, back when he and Sam were kids. God, so many good things used to happen on those days.

Dean strode over to the entrance, ducking his head as he walked in and collapsed onto a bar stool. The bartender, Ellen, recognised him from the last time. She’d been pretty cool about the whole “famous-movie-star-not-wanting-to-be-noticed” thing, and had directed him towards a seat in the corner, mostly away from the rest of society. She smiled at him again this time.

“Hi again. What can I get ya’?”

“Hi, Ellen. I’ll have a pint of whatever beer you feel like getting rid of. Thanks.”

“Fun day, huh?”

“Yeah, the kind that makes you regret your life choices.”

“I know how you feel, kid.”

Ellen grabbed a glass and filled it from one of the taps. She exchanged it with Dean for a generous tip and a sympathetic smile. He took the glass in both hands and moved towards the vacant seat in the corner. Geez, who would’ve though? Some hyper-macho movie star hiding in the corner of a bar that’s got barely ten people in it.

_Perhaps you’re in the wrong business, Winchester._

It was something Dean had been pondering for some time. He had it all – the looks, the roles, the chicks, the dudes, the fame, the money. Yet Dean still felt…not empty, but incomplete. Or perhaps he just didn’t quite fit the life, even after all these years. He just wasn’t interesting or controversial or eccentric enough to make the tabloids, not quite good enough to get any more than that one Academy Award nomination back in ’05.

His particularly bad day was not doing anything to help his view on the matter. He hadn’t been fired. He’d just run into a helluva lot of bad luck throughout the day. He did a mental roll call: slept in, stubbed his toe, forgot breakfast, forgot his trailer keys, got cold trying to find someone to open them, got poked in the eye getting his makeup done, couldn’t remember his lines, couldn’t pronounce his lines, got yelled at by the director times four, skipped lunch, spilt his coffee, accidentally broke his prop gun, got hit on the head during a stunt, and got ignored by Aaron the whole day (long story short, Aaron was NOT interested).

Yeah, it had been a pretty fantastic day.

“Wait! Woaaaaahhhh, Audrey, look! It’s him!”

“Oh my god! Go talk to him!”

“Ugh, yesss!”

Fan-freaking-tastic, thought Dean. Just what he needed.

Don’t get him wrong, Dean loved the amazing, supportive fanbase he had. But sometimes he needed a little…privacy. He needed to be able to walk into a bar without feeling the need to hide in a corner – which turned out to be fruitless anyway.

The girl walked towards him, sporting a huge grin and gripping a notepad and pen. The closer she got, the bouncier she became. Dean pretended not to notice. He didn’t want to come off as one of those celebs that actively anticipate excessive adoration.

“Um, hi? Mr Winchester?”

“Oh, hi there! Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Oh no, it’s no problem. I…uh, I really loved you as Jensen in Supernatural.”

“Thanks, he’s got a special place in my heart.”

“Haha, mine too! I was, um, just wondering if I could maybe get an autograph?”

“Sure thing!”

Dean signed the notebook with the well-used signature. The pen moved almost of its own accord, curling in the most artistically efficient way possible. He handed the book back with a smile.

“Wow, thank you so so much. It was a pleasure to meet you!”

“You too, take care.”

Dean smiled again, a little more genuine this time. The woman had been nice, and it wasn’t her fault that he’d had a bad day. He may not belong in the acting world, but he’d never sink so low as to be a dick to people that admired him. Be a dick to anyone, period. He just wasn’t that kind of guy.

Dean was roused from his thoughts by a man who stumbled into the bar, as though he had tripped on the way in. The guy was wearing a long, tan trench coat, not unusual given that it was fairly cold outside. His dark hair was sticking up in all directions, but not in the pretentious way of someone who purposely styles their hair to look messy. The effect was…overwhelmingly hot. And for some reason that Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on, he felt as if he’d seen the guy before.

A convention maybe? Or was he part of the crew? Not of the movie he was working on, but maybe another one? Dean had a nagging feeling that neither of those were right. Maybe he was an actor too? But then Dean would remember him. Huh, weird.

Dean was too wrapped up in pondering where he had seen the man before that he didn’t hear the man asking Ellen for a pint of beer and two shots. He also didn’t see the man put the drinks onto a tray, thank Ellen, and walk timidly over towards where Dean was sitting.

“My friend Ellen has reliably informed me that you could use something slightly stronger,” said the man in the trench coat. He had a nice voice, deep and gravelly, but oddly gentle. Now that the man was up close, Dean could see his eyes. And wow, what eyes. The bluest blue ever, and as kind as their owner’s voice sounded. They looked so alive, so bright. Intrigued, or perhaps a little enchanted, Dean decided that he’d better try and figure out who this guy was. And besides…his day could use a bit of hot guy and vodka.

“Well, she’s not wrong. But I couldn’t possibly let you get me a drink and walk off. Would you care to join me…?”

“Oh, Castiel. And yes, I would enjoy that very much.”

Castiel. Kind of a strange name. And quite unfamiliar too. But those eyes, he’d seen those eyes somewhere.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Castiel. That’s an unusual name, if you don’t mind me sayin.’”

“I don’t mind. My parents named all their children after angels. I’ve found it a little strange myself, but I have grown to like it.”

Castiel sat down at the seat next to Dean’s, with his back to the bar, hiding Dean a little bit more. Dean wasn’t sure if Castiel knew who he was, but was grateful nonetheless. And he was definitely enchanted now. There was just something extraordinarily compelling about him. He was so sincere, and read him so well.

Dean started to wonder if his beer was spiked. He was feeling a little swoopy and he hadn’t even had half a pint.

“May I inquire as to your name?”

“Oh, sorry. God, I’m so rude,” gushed Dean hurriedly, as it suddenly registered that he had been staring. “I’m Dean.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.”

_Cas? Wow, giving nicknames already, are we?_ Dean didn’t really feel weird, though. It was exactly what he normally would say in bars – a little weird, a little flirty, a little smoother on the outside than he was on the inside.

“Do tell me, Dean, what caused you to have such a horrible day that you are in need of vodka?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a series of fairly unfortunate events. Little things.”

“I understand how you feel. In my line of work, all number of things go wrong every day. It is quite unfortunate.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

Dean took the shot Cas had shouted him and downed it in one. It was good, lighting a fire down his throat and behind his eyes. There was still a nagging thought at the back of his mind – Dean knew this man. Without a doubt in his mind.

“I don’t know. I guess I just get worried about whether I’m anything more than a pretty face.”

“I have spoken barely a hundred words with you, Dean, but I already feel quite certain you are a great deal more than a pretty face.”

“You think I’m pretty, then?”

Cas blushed a little, and damn, that was hot. But also cute. And also familiar. Weird. Was that a little dusting of lust in those baby blues?

“O-of course. I mean…I, um…”

“Right back at you, Cas.”

Castiel’s face coloured a little more, and Dean imagined that his own was too. They really were playing a game of flattery. But Dean could play it all night long, at least with the alcohol lightly buzzing in his veins.

“And, you know, I think you’re a hell of a lot more than a pretty face, too. You’re smart, it’s right there, in your eyes. But you’re also kind, gentle.”

“If I did not know better, I’d say that was a flirtation.”

Well, it damn well could be. Because, as Dean saw it, his day had gotten a whole lot better those past few minutes.

“Who’s to say it wasn’t?”

Cas smirked a little, eyes lit up. And Dean remembered them, lit up a little like that. And the nag at the back of his mind turns to a tug, because he knows this man.

“Well, if it was, than I would respond with a mildly sarcastic comment about being a little eager, whilst also demonstrating that I was somewhat interested in continuing this flirtation.”

Their chairs had somehow moved a little closer together, the air between them heated up a little. Faces flushed, lungs inhaled, flitting between barely breathing and hyperventilating.

“Do tell me, Cas, what caused you to have such a horrible day that you need to buy a guy a shot and flirt with him?”

“Well, I think we had similar days. My work, it’s sometimes frustrating. And I, like you, often wonder if I am anything more than a slab of meat.”

“That’s rough. I guess we could be in similar lines of work?”

“Not quite, I don’t think…Dean Winchester.”

Oh. Wait, was this guy a journalist? Shit. The guy got him drunk and got him flirting. That was dirty. But then…he didn’t seem like a journalist. Dean’s mind went into overdrive.

“You, uh, you knew who I was?”

“Of course. I just, well, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean calmed down a little. Cas wasn’t a ‘journalist,’ he was too nice for it. Besides, the reporter types normally stayed way cooler. Snake-like.

“Um, thanks, Cas. Sorry, I forget.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to alert the media.”

“Thanks…hey, you know, this is gonna sound weird, but have we, uh, met? I dunno, I just can’t shake the feeling I know you.”

Much to Dean’s surprise, Cas snorted. And began to chuckle, leaving Dean fairly confused. That was until Cas stood up, grabbed his hand and practically yank him out of the bar, leaving a $50 note on the bar for Ellen. Dean still wasn’t completely sure what was happening, but hey, he wasn’t complaining.

Cas laced their fingers together and he was still smiling, trench coat billowing as they half-ran into the cold night air. Until they stopped abruptly, and they were both grinning even though they didn’t know why, and Dean wondered if maybe he was falling in love and he thought he sure wouldn’t mind because somehow it felt so natural.

And it kept feeling so right when Dean grabbed the tie that he hadn’t even noticed Cas was wearing and brought their lips crashing together. And normally there would be alarm bells ringing in Dean’s head because this was a stranger and he could be anyone but he can’t hear any. Their tongues slowly explored each other’s mouths, and it’s unlike any kiss Dean’s ever had with some random at a bar, because it’s full of passion and caring. And Dean would have been happy to stand there for a while longer when suddenly…

He remembered.

And he pulled away because _holy shit_ , he’d never actually met Cas before, but he’d seen him a significant few times. And he saw those blue eyes staring into his from the video playing on his laptop screen and damn, why on Earth would this guy kiss _him_?

“Oh. _Oh_. I think I remember where I saw you.”

Cas smiled a little more. “I take it you have also seen some of my films.”

“Woah, y-yeah. Sorry, that’s probably really weird for you…I’m gonna-”

“Dean.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

And so he did.

Minutes later, the Impala’s engine started up, and the pair sped down the highway.

**Author's Note:**

> procrastination is a wonderful thing, is it not? i'd had the idea for an au with actor!dean and pornstar!cas rattling around in my head for a while, but I only just got around to writing it. i'm thinking that maybe i'll turn it into a multichapter? but i don't really know...anyway, tell me what you thought! (only if you want ^_^)


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